


Coordinating

by vehlek



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Breast Licking, Character(s) of Color, Doggy Style, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Sex, Human/Pokemon Relationship(s), Interspecies Sex, Pokephilia, Pokémon are sentient, Slight Femdom, Submissive, Trans Female Character, but they can't talk, handjob, sex toy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 15:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18831850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vehlek/pseuds/vehlek
Summary: Not everyone's great at contests. But everyone's got to practice.(the fucking isn't practice it's just some sweet slow lovin)





	Coordinating

If hers isn’t the body type you picture when you think of dance choreography, that’s fair. If it’s your nature to put someone prettier in your mind’s eye before you see her twirling around, don’t sweat it. That’s average. And she’s… not.

There’s a garden nearby that Xixi and Fēn practice in before every contest—the plodded little walkways between each row of berries are the perfect length and width for rehearsing the walk down a professional stage. Tamatos, chilans, and hondews grow tall and fat on either side, their branches somewhat hiding the pair of hopefuls from the eyes of what few tourists the contest hall brings to a hot, sleepy town as this.

Fēn’s the current standout of these two. Or _Phoon_ , as best her neighbors can get to saying it right. She’s got on cool white sneakers smudged just so and an official contest tee discounted just for her, its overlong hem stuffed under the tight highband of her jeans and the baggy chest emblazoned in a genuine – _and all I got was this lousy T-shirt!_ She still needs to wash her hair today, but even now it’s got the look of good and messy on purpose. Like she’s learned a few pieces of fashion from three decades ago worth keeping. Confident.

Xixi’s her Zangoose. Soft red stripe splayed across white, long fluffy tail whipping one way or another—and taut fluffy ass thudding flat over the hard dirt again.

She’s the one dancing. Or was. Keeps trying to.

That some people have actual studios to practice in—what a load of baloney. That’s what’s no fair.

Fēn sucks silent on her bottom lip as she winces. She calls out, “That’s okay! We just keep trying. You’re gonna get it. Winners are the ones who keep getting back up.”

Xixi doesn’t speak. She frowns. Not to suggest the beginnings of how dour she looks now weren’t there even as she pranced and spun and dipped her way through her routine. She rubs one paw over her fuzzy lower back, then with the other pushes slow back to her feet.

The work just to get this far has already been hard. The distribution of weight between Xixi’s belly and hips used to be unfortunate. Now, it’s… well, now she can smile to herself on good days in the mirror. And as much as Fēn says her stubby height “doesn’t need ‘fixing,’” short girls are supposed to be cuter, anyway. People say that. She’s heard it somewhere.

At least now she’s learned routines to mess up in the first place.

Xixi brushes off her butt and slaps her higher cheeks twice, shakes her head. She exhales. Fēn says “You good?” and Xixi nods. Xixi’s good for sure. Try, try again. She’s got this.

And on her way back to the other end of their makeshift dirt catwalk, this time she trips flat on her face.

It’s not even wet out.

In the middle of stretching her paws to her sides to push herself back up, Xixi decides a smarter course of action: she lets her arms collapse beside herself, her face still in the dirt, and she lays inanimate in the bed she’s made for herself.

The slight squeak of sneakers padding up beside her make up the rest of the world. A hand rubs the back of her shoulder gently, and Fēn’s voice comes quieter this time from above.

“You wanna go home for today?”

Xixi nods, inadvertently rubbing more of her own dirty little world into her fur.

 

 

The dream—the eventual goal—is a penthouse somewhere in the big city. Any big city. The whole wall in the living room will be pure window, floor to ceiling, no balcony, thirty stories up just so they can have a little privacy from the paparazzi and zealous tweenage fans who will obsess over them online and ship either one of them with ridiculously beautiful women or men they’ve not even yet met.

Or maybe not. That’s the sort of dream Fēn and Xixi giggle over rather than fret about. Because right now, home is in the lowest floor of a small apartment building prone to floods in the early months. At least it’s got to be comfier than stardom.

Right now even more so, home is in a dinky bathtub. Steam fills the air and little splashes of water leak over the rim, and where a grown man would barely be able to stretch out his legs all the way, here two grown-ish women sit anyway, Xixi tucked within Fēn’s lap and Fēn’s legs wrapped past her on both sides.

Fēn holds her arms over Xixi’s shoulders, hands clutched on either side of a smartphone zipped safe in a plastic bag, and on that they watch bitter housewives in high-mortgage single-family homes bicker about the most important trivialities in their private gated community. The faucet still drips constant past the pair, but through simple ingenuity, Fēn’s poked her toes above the surface of the water over the drain to stifle any noise.

On their screen, through waterproof distortion, one housewife slaps the husband of another. Looks like it hurt. He calls her crazy, she snaps back with a line witty enough that neither Fēn nor Xixi can be quite sure whether it was scripted or not.

Xixi’s fur is soaked through. But like this, even she can enjoy the water. The remnants of white suds leak down Fēn’s own long black hair, too, stray locks draped haphazard around her collarbone. Even sitting at the same level, even as short as Fēn is for a human, she’s still inches taller than Xixi. Even leaned over close, human jaw nuzzled damp but warm against Xixi’s temple—now’s one of the times Xixi can only be glad for her partner to have the advantage of such a long, slender, soft frame.

She sighs and sinks an inch lower against the lithe pillow Fēn’s skin provides. The dirt’s already gone; they showered and cleaned up together before they climbed in the tub, and now the whole bathroom smells like essential oils. Jasmine. Their current soak is just for fun.

Maybe those floods wouldn’t be as bad if the rainwater kept to the bliss of this temperature.

“Hey. You think I’m gonna need a ladybeard?”

Xixi perks back up at that and twists her gaze slightly upward to the right. Fēn hugs her knees closer around Xixi as she meets her gaze back in just a simple glance down.

“For when we’ve definitely gotten super rich and famous,” she says. “You think we’ll need some big, strong, beardy guy hanging out with us publicly all day? I guess he’d probably have to live with us. He could have the guest bedroom. Or one of ‘em.”

Without the words in her throat to answer for her, Xixi merely pouts. She turns back to face the faucet again and nestles as she does farther back against Fēn, ensuring a quick motion rubbing up and down over her human’s warm bosom. Flirty in the way she can do, but her pout isn’t only playing.

Even in the nude, Fēn is the standout between them. Or especially in the nude.

But Fēn only hums back a playful grumble. “I’ll take that as a no, jealous little fluffball.”

Since two years ago when it was exactly the kind of man too tall to stretch out here who “had” her, big guys have been in Xixi’s rearview. The shampoo rack currently hanging from Fēn and Xixi’s showerhead used to be in that guy’s bathroom, too—but that was shortly before Fēn broke up with him, moved out, and wooed Xixi out with her.

Backstory complete. That’s it. The complications between those old relationships… matter less now. They’re safely forgotten.

On screen, another housewife defends the honor of her douche of a husband, but whatever she’s reciting comes through less clear in the following seconds when Fēn lowers her own voice.

“So you don’t want some trophy boy to parade around in front of the cameras for you, either? Or maybe a pretty girl. Somebody safe for all your fans to fantasize about. Someone nobody can _help_ but fantasize about what the two of you could do together.”

Blushing is never the accurate term under thick cheeks like Xixi’s, but she can’t deny a heat rising inside herself from a tone that sultry. Fēn brushes her cheek past Xixi’s wet tufts as she pulls her lips back the span of a soft breath against her partner’s ear. A hot breath.

“May I touch?”

Xixi’s own lips tighten. It’s embarrassing in more than just the words, but they’re exactly the words that part her inhibitions. It’s so easy. Too easy, for Xixi’s taste, as a reddened bud rises already from her. Not the kind of bud typical for a lady.

As little as Xixi can, without looking back, she nods.

Fēn hums a new tune, quiet, upbeat. One hand departs from her phone and slides down Xixi’s waist, coiling low and gentle around someplace for her touch only. Xixi hisses inward at the arrival of new pressure that low, but when it’s Fēn’s hand that offers it, even Xixi’s hiss curls back into an embarrassed, girlish little smile.

“Or maybe just a butler,” Fēn says louder again, nonchalant as she likes. “Is it okay if I want a cool anime butler? Some guy who can get into all sorts of stupid adventures with us in between him keeping our place perfect and the whole world falling in love with us.”

Her fingers merely caress tiny feline barbs so far, Fēn’s motion rippling the water’s surface that Xixi’s tip peeks up through just the same. Xixi’s breath hitches, then quickens, and Fēn sighs a wistful sort of _if only_ breath for the end of her daydream. She straightens herself up, too, as much as it ripples the water further, adjusting against the back of the tub more comfortably for the cushioning she provides her partner.

Xixi hates to touch it for herself. But when it’s some other girl’s hand wrapped around her, they stir stranger feelings inside her. The nervous discomfort of anything touching it at all, a warm ebb into the state of being okay, then a gentle, giddy fall over butterflies in her stomach. When Fēn whispers some soft desire to fondle her, to fondle for her, just for her, there’s only the feeling left in Xixi that it’s okay to be the vulnerable kind of girl she always was.

Xixi winces through her tiny smile when Fēn squeezes firmer, fingers rubbing back and forth now, snug but safe over the barbs. Not too firm—not uncomfortably tight. Never.

“Good?”

Xixi nods longer this time. The bathwater ebbs back and forth past them, its little waves as cautious as Fēn can keep them while she snuggles closer around Xixi.

“Good,” she whispers. “I love feeling exactly how horny you get for me.”

There’s little attention left between them for the phone in Fēn’s other hand as one housewife now betrays her promise to another on it. Something like that. Xixi shuts her eyes tight and tucks her paws into a bundle over her own chest, out of the way. She gives up to Fēn’s control like this.

“Hey,” Fēn says, unceasing. “You not watching anymore?”

Xixi’s eyes open in a blearier state already, keeping just her panting behind the trembles of her lips. Fēn’s tone remains in a constant tease.

“And after all the trouble I went to for us. Rude.”

The hand underwater releases Xixi as Fēn lifts it back to her phone, clicking off its screen through the baggie and shifting it from right to left before she sets it down outside the tub. She pulls back into the tub still closer, nestling herself tight this time around her partner, and warm nudity encloses Xixi on all sides. Fēn’s hum entrances the rest of her trapped girl’s attention—and both her hands dip back beneath the water.

Xixi squeaks at Fēn’s renewed grip. The slippery touch of fingers glad to return to the squeeze. Fēn leans deep, resting her chin beside Xixi’s, refusing yet any more than stroking and watching the whimpers leak off from Xixi’s open, empty tongue, humming the quiet, honeyed tune they’ll ride out on together. Only Xixi’s hips pull away from Fēn, pressing forward and swaying with her partner’s strokes, begging for completion in the lack of words she needs.

But the bathwater sways greater through her motion. Little splashes clap over the rim of the tub, and Fēn pauses. Her humming halts. The tone of her voice bobs immediately back to high and regular.

“This may be untenable.”

Xixi’s panting echoes over the remainder of the waves in the tub, and as she hears herself again, she swallows it back. Catches her breath.

Then Fēn grazes open lips back to her partner’s ear. She sucks in a deep breath, then whispers it out for just Xixi.

“But I’m not letting you off the hook just yet.”

The shape Xixi’s grin melts into is deliriously silly.

In ten minutes, she’s still damp after drying herself. Fēn’s already finished, pecked her on the cheek, told her not to be long. So Xixi drags her towel up one last time around her tail before shaking free the last easy drops from the sodden tufts on her face, shutting her eyes while she smacks her cheeks twice, as per backstage routine. Then she follows.

Xixi and Fēn keep their bedroom less than a sexy space. As shown by the display all over their floor, they find clothes hampers overrated. Short bookshelves hang across their walls. A photo or two sit in frames leaned neat on one shelf, but mostly it’s cheap plush dolls and autographs lined in rows over the dresser or bedside, high enough that they’ve escaped getting covered by flood insurance thus far. Popplio, Pichu, Clefairy, a misshapen Snorlax with its feet dangling free—and human contest stars, too, for how much more smushed together their likenesses are in chibi form.

But the decorations are for when they keep lit more than just a bedside lamp.

On the bed, perched over the edge, Fēn sits somehow even more naked now than in her same nudity in the tub. Legs crossed, gaze narrow and steamy, and wisps of hair still drying cool over a single shoulder. Every curve held at the angle to be seen, glowing in both the low light and the soft remainder of bath oils, pale but warm, like she welcomes singular admiration tonight. In want, or in need—a state she decides in secret behind a sly smile.

The scent of jasmine petals hangs heavier in here. Xixi stands at the threshold between bathroom and bedroom, and under the cool air outside the bath, it’s the heat in her chest that rises again already.

Fēn sets a gaze matching the rest of her intensity square on her partner. She lifts forward one arm taut, and then from it, points one finger down. Twirls it.

Under how silly she’s not afraid to look, Xixi takes two steps. She raises her paws from her sides, wrists bent dainty, and spins graceful and steady in a single circle, lifting both arms higher in a silent _ta-da_ when she stops at a short, abrupt curtsy toward Fēn.

Fēn neglects clapping. She pulls both hands instead toward Xixi, uncrossing her legs as she beckons her partner closer in a smile not to be kept waiting. Xixi dips her paws again and tiptoes her way through obliging. When she comes to the bed, she climbs up with claws steadied careful over Fēn’s shoulders, sliding one furred knee and then the other past either side of the soft lap welcoming her.

Their distance is closed by a dark reflection in each other’s eyes. Fēn stares down as long into Xixi’s as she pleases, merely rubs her hands across these hips straddled over hers.

“Good girl.”

Thrill. Xixi alights at the words, at the tone, but right now, she takes little time to soak in the praise. She settles her paws around Fēn’s ribs and instead takes the simple weight of breasts petite and ticklish into her grasp. She lowers her head to one before the other, slims her gaze, and laps her tongue slow over a bud more appropriate to each their needs.

Fēn hums above her in a single breath released at last. She plays her fingers over the damp flickers of Xixi’s nape in return, stroking more, encouraging her praise to soak in further.

Unremarked shivers echoing through Xixi’s tongue tell her just the same. She closes her lips and suckles gentle, draws a deeper kiss. Fēn presses deep with her, sighing, and Xixi keeps on despite the shape of a grin her kisses take on.

Fēn gasps. Broken softly through from sultry to grateful, she whispers, “Good girl….”

Xixi licks at a pace neither of them need build. There’s no rush. Climax is now the crown atop a distant hill. In tandem with every little lap of her tongue, skin tingles and gasps roll above her, rousing scents remained subtle or still until her kisses discover them. Each sweet new taste she draws out from Fēn puts Xixi at a scintillating ease.

When she pulls away, it’s only to remedy Fēn’s waiting breast. Xixi carries with her just the long, slick proof of her work shining dim and clear off her dangled tongue, draping it wet from one peak to another as she dips close and curls her lips warm again around the next.

Fēn giggles between deeper breaths at the touch of soft hairs nestling over her again, and she grazes her nails gentle, shallow, up through the fur over Xixi’s nape. She tucks her face closer and lays her own lips above Xixi, mutters sweet nothings between each next long breath, wordless.

But just a minute more of simple bliss, and Xixi feels next a hand nuzzling under her chin, pulling her away. Xixi lifts her gaze. Fēn gazes back down into her, stroking deep the fibers under her jaw in the moment they both breathe easy again.

Xixi waits, eyes none the wider. Fēn smiles. Rewards.

“Get on my bed, little fluffball.”

Xixi gulps back what’s left in her lungs. She shuffles off Fēn’s lap and crawls off to her side on knees and paws, slow and easy, careful not to drag her claws too hard over the sheets. Fēn squeaks off the edge of the bed behind her, but doesn’t yet join her farther toward the pillows.

The door to their closet knocks open and rustles echo dull from it, but Xixi doesn’t look back. She settles in the center of bed without rolling over. She hides the blush playing through in her smile within the crook of her arms, raises her tail, and keeps herself presented obediently as such.

Little clanks of straps and buckles from the closet, the tight squeak of leather and skin squeezing against each other, erase any mystery of what Fēn’s getting together.

And when the mattress edge creaks again, when longer hands and knees plod up behind and over Xixi—naked jasmine wafts close again, closer yet, and as if on accident, Xixi’s pulled already into her own little world beneath.

Fēn takes better care of Xixi’s tail and brushes the fluffy white beast farther up and out of the way, and below it, Xixi hears the sudden pop of a bottle uncapping. She can’t help but flinch when a cold balm spills just as soon down her cleft.

A quick gasp. A slow exhale.

Hands press next down on Xixi’s either side, straddling anew. Long, black, silken locks flit down beside her cheek, and as Fēn leans down, her next words come again at the distance of a whisper.

“May I touch?”

The heat of her breath puts a twitch into Xixi’s ear this time. Xixi digs her face deeper into her arms and offers her tiniest mewl out from their fluff.

Fēn hums. She lifts back up and adjusts the position of her hips. Xixi inhales.

Cool, springy silicone nudges into place, then presses taut against Xixi. In a gentle, constant push, Fēn grunts, too, the highs of her voice followed through into the same girlish little moan as Xixi’s as the tool digs back inside her, too.

“Mmm… easy, good girl….”

Xixi squeezes her eyes shut tight, relenting only elsewhere as chilled ooze leaks inward with the silicone, cushioning Fēn’s entrance into her. Her spine trembles. Jasmine weighs over all her senses as she gives over the space inside herself. Every fiber tingles on end.

Gentle breaths. Soft. Careful.

Cool pressure turns to hot and it mounts until the last moment, and then with a bare, audible slurp, Fēn’s hips grind kindly against Xixi’s.

“ _Haaah_ ….”

The weight over Xixi shifts lower as Fēn rests easier, relaxes around her. It could be both their gasp—the toys Fēn picks out always assure fun for all.

And in a voice quickly cleared up, Fēn leans close again and says, “How’s the size?”

Xixi gives back an inch of her face to open, heavy air, and mewls content.

Fēn’s breath returns to a ticklish whisper.

“Am I a perfect fit?”

Ears tip downward, and in a renewed heat, Xixi clutches tighter at the sheets. She nods.

Thick, slick silicone pulls back slow but without warning, and a whine leaks freely out from Xixi’s throat as her body tugs automatically at the attentions Fēn rolls back with her hips. She opens her eyes dull and bleary at the peak of withdrawal, but just as soon, Fēn pushes back inside. Easy, shallow thrusts, getting Xixi used to her from the start again, and Xixi blinks through the motions in a daze, like she can’t hear how she gasps anymore.

What grazes next over the tip of her bent ear aren’t lips, but teeth. Shivers take Xixi as her partner finds the coordination for nibbling and rolling hips both. Playing. Taking fun for herself. Even through the shortness of her own breath, a possessive growl rumbles out from Fēn’s bite.

Xixi melts. She clenches her claws dangerously close to tearing the sheets.

Without fully realizing, she moves her hips faintly in tandem with Fēn’s thrusts, to and fro. Soaking her in. Her little gasps turn to unbidden groans as Fēn alternates speed, or _twists_ , or lays heavier her weight over Xixi’s back to wrap her between a warm hug and a deep, predatory entitlement.

Sweat joins the scents etching into Xixi’s brain as they both go. Despite the efforts of their previous washing slipping away so soon, it’s all the more Xixi gets to enjoy. The rawest proof of anyone’s pleasure. This is how the wild takes. And she deserves it raw.

Fēn releases her just barely, mutters breathy, “You know how much—I love being inside you? _Mmmf_ —”

A single harder thrust. Xixi squeaks.

“—you’re so cute down there.”

It’s all Xixi needs to hear to ride that close back to her own edge. She pushes her arms out to her sides to hold herself steadier against Fēn’s tide, instead clenching the sheets between her fangs to muffle how embarrassingly loud she grows.

Such a futile attempt doesn’t escape Fēn’s notice. The satisfaction in her soft voice turns harder within a moment as she whispers what’s next.

“You’re going to cum now.”

The words brush down Xixi’s cheek unabated. Her eyes tremble wide.

“And I’m going to watch.”

She knows it’s true.

The end nears for them together. Fēn stays at greatest depth, but she keeps her last thrusts shallow. The spill of her hair is cascaded around her messed, silken face in the corner of Xixi’s eye, and even as the bed fills most of her vision, Fēn’s glimpse, watching her in turn, is all she can see.

Xixi’s eyes shut. Her throat clenches, her lips shake. It happens without desperate bucking—her lungs squeeze out one final mewl, and hugged tight around Fēn, electricity lights up every nerve down Xixi’s convulsed spine.

Silent shaking.

Then rigid gasps.

Then an unsteady, satisfied hum in her ear.

Fēn peels out from her, slides to her left, and just like that, falls soft and less than graceful over the sheets beside Xixi. Xixi stays propped up as she is, or as she can, by knees freshly weak. Both girls breathe under the same heavy, lifted weight.

Fēn lolls her gaze back toward her partner, strokes a hand over Xixi’s damp cheek.

“Good?”

Through loose, open lips, Xixi looks back. She smiles.

“Good.”

Fēn shifts just a finger, boops it playful on the tip of Xixi’s nose.

“Then you’re gonna eat me out next, cutie.”

 

 

Eventually, maybe she is who people will think of. Maybe not. But either way, tonight, she has no regrets for trying to reach that far.

The contest hall in this town contains humbler affairs than what gets televised past local channels, but it’s real as it gets. Bleachers, loudspeakers, and the panel of judges between them. It’s a familiar sight that gets better or worse every time from within the spotlights beamed onto stage.

Tonight—better. Definitely better.

Xixi stands straight and gaily, paws clutched behind her waist under the dopiest look she’s ever felt burning on her face, and Fēn just as proud at her side. Glowsticks and cellphones wave from everywhere they can see. The whole little audience cheers for Xixi and Fēn tonight.

They’ve never felt bigger in a space so small.

On their either side, three more pairs of contestants clap for them. Disappointed, but not dour. Confetti swirls in the air around them all, but for the first time, it’s because of Xixi.

It’s her that the judge stops before, the long strap of a pink ribbon in both his hands. It’s Xixi, bowing an inch for the award, whose neck he loops it over before he steps back and applauds—before he steps over and swings an arm wide, presents her to the crowd.

There are no tears in her eyes. That’s a bit much. Don’t look too close.

She and Fēn wave together all around at the audience, basking. There’s a little girl squeezed through to the front row cheering with the same bright look in her eyes Xixi has felt for herself before, and for a lack of flowers to throw, Xixi waves and grins unashamedly silly right at her. Young awe fills the girl’s eyes. She waves back as high and hard as she can.

This time, after the curtains close, there is no doing it all over again. Fēn and Xixi just keep going.


End file.
